Author Topic: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm  (Read 33253 times)

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Wheel-Son

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Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« Reply #5070 on: September 22, 2018, 06:45:36 pm »
   A nice, calm beat was played by the small band inside the old cabaret. It was well maintained, despite the cataclysm. Lights were still working and and it was a lightshow inside, many went to the Golden Circle Cabaret for the lights, the cold drinks, and the live music. Despite it being little more than a fancy Hooter’s a good few mutants, many came just to talk with the ‘hostesses’, there were many rules in place. That unless you were behind the curtains or shut doors of the hostess’s rooms, you aren’t allowed to touch them.


   It was a normal business day, many customers came to spend their trade-goods and have a good time. However, one of the customers got a little too tipsy… And too handsy. “Sir! This establishment has a firm policy about touching. Please refrain from doing so, sir.” The drunk ignored him, “Look, I’m warning you here.” The drunkard stood up, and glared at the waiter. “An’ you’ll do what, exactly?!” He shouted, before pushing the man to the floor. The cabaret went silent, “Yer gettin’ paid, quit your griping!” A man in a snake-skin dress-coat tapped the drunk on the shoulder.

   “Sir.” The manager went, “Your patronage is much appreciated, thank you so very much, however. I please request you don’t touch the hostesses.” He continued, bowing his head. The drunk looked him up and down, “Th’fuck are you? A bouncer or somethin’?” The manager chuckled, “A common mistake. But, a mistake none-the-less.” He explained, the drunk replied with a “Yeah? Then what the fuck are ya?” The manager took out an Employee ID, showing it to the man. “My name is Nashio Yuko, and I am the manager of this Cabaret.” The drunk laughed in Nashio’s face, “YOU’RE the manager? Hah! They got a jap running the place?” He glared at the drunk, “Sir, please. Refrain from calling me as such.”

   “But I digress, sir. Please refrain from touching the hostesses and acts of violence while you are our guest.” Nashio explained clearly, “If it bothers ya that much, why don’t you do somethin’ about it?” He shouted at the manager, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. ‘The customer is king’, you see.” The drunk had a wicked grin on his face, “Oh?” He said, grabbing the bottle of champagne from his table, “Quite a policy you got there, I’m a big fan. Here, a drink on me.” The thug said, pouring the bottle over Nashio’s head. He didn’t even flinch, he grinned in-fact. “Very kind of you, sir.” He said as he got the liquor out of his eyes, “I always said I loved this brand so much, I wish I could bathe in it.” The manager’s grin widened, “You’ve made a dream come true.” The drunk was furious, “Prick! You’ve certainly got a pair!” He growled, gripping the bottle by it’s neck.

   The bottle was swung, but Nashio dodged effortlessly. It was swung again and again with similar results, “Sir, perhaps you had enough for one evening? If you insist on interrupting our business any further…” The man stepped forward, “You do what, huh?” The manager grinned, “[If that’s the way you want it…] Boys! Gimme one with some beat!” The music erupted again, “The fuck?” He said, confused. “If you insist that I overstep my station, then I, Nashio. Shall dance with you! I will not, however, raise a hand. After all, ‘customer is king’!” He said with a little bow. “You’re still going on with that, Smug motherfucker! I’ll kick your teeth in!”

   The drunkard tossed the bottle over his shoulder and put his fists up, as Nashio adjusted his tie. The drunk swung at him, and he simply stepped out of the way. The thug lost sight of him and looked around, just as Nashio put a hand on his shoulder. “Over here, sir.” He said mockingly, which caused the man to kick at him. Nashi simply caught it, he lifted the leg up and dropped the man onto his back.

   The drunk let out an annoyed growl, before drawing a small folding knife. “Oh dear, sir? I don’t think anyone here wants you to hurt yourself…” Nashio mocked, which caused the man to lunge at him. He dodged out of the way, gripping his wrist, Nashio disarmed the man and threw him over his shoulder. “I will be confiscating this for your own safety, sir.” He said, folding the knife back up and sliding it into pocket.

   The drunk was dragged out by two waiters as he let out a sigh of relief, “Fucks sake… I need a drink.” He grumbled as he walked up to his office, pinching the bridge of his nose. An hour or two pass without much needing his attention as he goes through a nice glass of oolong tea with Sake.
   
That was, at least, until another argument broke out was heard, just as the music went dead silent. “Dammit... “ He grumbled, grabbing an old louisville slugger. He quietly opened the door to peek at the comotion, there was around four God’s Army thugs and the drunk. “Fuuuuck me sideways… my fault for stayin’ here. Those punks are right at my doorstep.” He growled as he creeped ahead, the intruders were saying something about ‘everyone here isn’t free of sin’ or something. However, Nashio’s eye locked onto one of the crusader’s weapons. The capped man had a signed bat, and Nashio wanted it.

   “You all will be smited by the will of god hims-!” and as if on cue, the maple met the visor of the riot helmet. The glass shattered inwards, and into the crusader’s face and eyes. The man fell to the floor, screaming about how he couldn't see. Nashio scooped up the crusader’s bat, and the three privates recoiled. “He actually hit him…” one of them mumbled, “Not even that van-hellsing looking motherfucker couldn’t…” another said.

   “...what? It’s just a bat. A very nice bat, yes. But a bat none-the-less.” He asked, confused. Another private spoke up, one of the more devoted ones. “It’s been blessed by the lord almighty Himself! And you will be struck down for even grasping-” Nashio brained the privated with the baseball bat, “Really now? Huh.” Cue another meaty thwack at the Private’s skull. “Doesn’t seem very blessed…” He mocked.

   He brought it down again, and the wood snapped in half. The other two privates were stunned, “...what, he- he actually broke it! It caved in tin-heads skulls without breaking! What are you?!” One of them cried out, “You two wanna end up like him? Take your boss and get the fuck out of here, leave the shitstain.” He barked, nodding towards the former drunk.
   
   The two picked up the blinded crusader and dragged him out, leaving the corpse. Nashio got one of the waiters to toss it for the wolves outside. He dragged the Drunk inside the office, scooping up his maple bat. “You little fundie fuckboy, You thought to bring your fucking choir boy friends here? ‘Eh Merridew?” He tossed him inside his office, and pointed his bat at him. “You. Fucked. Up.” Nashi snarled, cracking the less-than intelligent man across the jaw. He brought it down again, and again as business returned to normal and the band played in the main hall. The drunk was left a beaten and bloody mess when Nashio stopped, just before he opened the window of his Office. It was a two-three story drop, and he set the bloodstained bat to the side. Nashi grabbed the man by  the back of his collar and proceeded to throw him out of the window.

   As he hit the pavement, his skull cracked open and splattered against the concrete. Nashio glared at the mangled corpse, and caught an eyeful of a pair of vehicles, a station wagon and a pick-up truck. Barreling towards the Cabaret with blue crosses on the hood. “[Oh son of a BITCH]” He exclaimed, going to the gun locker he and one of the ‘waiters’ nabbed from an old police station. All they could find was a semi-auto hunting shotgun, a magnum, a pair of semi-autos, and even a small SMG. For being so far north, GA held pretty much a monopoly on whatever firearms they could find. It was a luck of the draw they could even find that.

   Nashio stuffed whatever into his leather bag, the guns, boxes of ammunition, the works. He peered out of the window again, just as God’s Army began to pour out of the black vans. The manager stormed out, scooping up his bat he shouted “Everyone! Get to the back rooms, I need the waiters to stay! Everyone else needs to HIDE!” Everyone began to flood behind the stage, save for a little under a half dozen waiters. Nashi barred the door with his bat, “I need something sturdier! Like a fucking… Barstool!” He shouted, pointing at the bar. One of the ‘waiters’ nodded, an older, middle aged man. An pre-cataclysm immigrant, Nashi could tell from the accent. He said to call him ‘Jimmy’ when he first came around a couple years back. He ran over and hopped the bar. “The fuck are you-?!” Nashio questioned, just as Jimmy grabbed his bag, an old, patched together dufflebag. He took out an barely used sawed off pump action shotgun, he held it in his off hand and grabbed a bar stool with the duffle over his shoulder. “No worries, boss man. Jus’ grabbin’ my ol’ girl here.” Jimboy said, bracing the front door with that barstool. Nashio sighed, before passing out the pistols to the rest.

A tall skinny man, said he used to be a security guard when he first got employed here. He accepted the small SMG and checked it’s chamber, he stuffed the spare mag that was given to him into his dress pocket. Another was a old man, clearly from the south. Was a farmer, he was good muscle for the cabaret. He gladly took the Python and a hefy handful of loose rounds. The other two were average joes, but could at least point and shoot. They were given the semi-autos, the group got situated behind the bar in the center of the hall. The moment the door was blown open, the group of Mundies were torn apart by gunfire, the final crusader struggled to get up as Jimmy finished him off with a shot through his visor.


Nashio rose a brow, “That can’t be it…” He mumbled, his train of thought interrupted by screaming in the back rooms of the stage.  “Oh FUCK.” Nashi exclaimed, scrambling to his feet as several of the waiters followed. The farmer and Jimmy, primarily. Nashio barged into the back room, to be met with a baseball bat to the head. He felt his brain get knocked around inside his skull and was knocked on his back. The man with the bat was blown away by Jimmy, as the farmer walked in to check the room. Nashio was dragged out by Jimboy, groaning. “Aw hell, get DOWN.” The farmer yelled as the drywall was torn up by gunfire, Farmer caught a couple of rounds and returned them in kind. One round per private. The magnum clicked as he slid down the wall, Jimmy barged in as Nashio’s skull pounded as he got back to his feet. The last two privates were taken out, inside the large room was a massacre.

Nashio was sickened, “Ohh no…” he mumbled, but he noticed something. None of them were the hostesses. The corpses were mostly the customers, a door to one of the changing rooms eased open. One of the hostesses spoke up, “Uh- Are they gone?” She meekly asked Nashio, “Yeah, they’re gone. Y’alright back there?” He asked, raising a brow. He looked over at the Farmer. “Aw hell pops, they gotcha bad, old man…” Nashio whispered, kneeling down. The old man wheezed and sputtered, “Nawh, nawh. It’s fine. Jus’ go. Lived my life, kiddo…” He drawled, as the former yakuza nodded. “Rest well, old man…” He whispered, getting up.

There was an agreement that they need to leave, more will no doubt be coming. So they ‘commodeered’ the late GA squad’s vehicles. And with a paint can from storage. They painted over the crosses and Jimmy scratched the back of his head. “Well, boss. I fink this may be our separate ways. I got some unfinished business I shoulda’ taken care of a long time ago. Be seein’ ya.” Nashio nodded, “You too, Jim-boy. Stay safe.” He said, as Jimmy took the old station wagon. The handful of folks following Nashio, along with Nashio himself, took the cube van.

   The Yakuza and the Brit took their separate ways, and hopefully fate had something pleasant in store...
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